#the reluctant landlord

[astarlightmonbebe]

rewatching parts of episode one and this scene still doesn’t make sense. taeoh’s expression, the distress on it as he looks at the fireworks, the slight confusion at seeing inha, and then again the distress, don’t make sense to me. he looks afraid, or at least deeply troubled. why? somehow i don’t think it has to do with the noise…

[twobigears]

can’t wait to stop renting so we can pay for property maintenance ourselves instead of paying rent so we can also pay for property maintenance ourselves

[marshmallsy]

IN OTHER NEWS, I AM FINALLY THE RECIPIENT OF SOME GOOD FORTUNE FOR ONCE

so basically, i really like this room i’m renting in taipei. it’s super cheap and really conveniently located. BUT i’ve been having a lot of trouble with it because my skylight is leaky (old taiwan houses), even after they got someone to fix it twice. not to mention the skylight area actually has a gap at the top which i didn’t notice when i signed the lease, so mosquitos/bugs keep flying in when i turn on the lights at night and i can hear the next door neighbours being annoying as fuck. it’s just been a huge pain in the ass, because they CAN’T close off the wall until they fix the skylight, and they can’t fix the skylight until it stops raining, and taipei is a humid ass island so it’s been raining CONSTANTLY, and it was to the point where i considered maybe just moving out once my contract was up.

but then. BUT THEN. someone else on my floor has to suddenly move out. and their room not only has space for me to set up my rug and floor table, IT HAS A BALCONY. WHICH MEANS I ALSO HAVE A WINDOW WITH NATURAL LIGHT. and i only have to pay $1000 more which is, like, $35 US extra. i’m moving my shit over this weekend!!!

[longroadstonowhere]

wtdmjs hat auf deinen Eintrag geantwortet

You’re in an apartment in a building with other apartments, right? If so the mouse / mice could be coming in from the outside of the building into communal areas and then from there into anyone’s dwelling. Your local mice might not carry serious illnesses, but mice in general can be a legit health risk so your lease may *require* you to report them; your neighbors would be my highest priority here.

the thing is, my apartment is not, like, a building made to be apartments, it’s like a converted house? so the building layout is a little funky - also my apartment has a door into the utility room, which also has a door to the outside, so it could be the mouse got in here without touching on any common areas at all

good point about checking the lease, though, i should look through that just to make sure (it was a simple lease so honestly it probably doesn’t mention anything of the sort but i won’t know for certain until i reread it), and honestly i’ll probably report it either way just to do things properly and hope that my landlord isn’t the type to try and use rat poison

[hollyseb]

BARTENDER (part 1)

You need to make ends meet. How far are you willing to go?

Mob! Bucky x Reader

Authors note; this is my first fic. Pls be nice :)

Warnings; drinking. Minors DNI. Will get saucier lol.

Who am I? You were staring at yourself in the mirror of your janky apartment. Little red dress, white thigh high lacey socks. This wasn’t you. You felt silly. But you needed this

Since finishing college, the job market had been dry. You were broke. Undeniably. The rent payments are piling up, student loans begging to be paid, your unforgiving landlord constantly up your ass.

You smoothed down your dress, reminding yourself that this was temporary, just to make ends meet before finding a job in your field. You couldn’t deny that despite feeling a little on-show, you looked hot. Your dress hugging your curves, and your heels making your legs look everlong.

You’d picked up a job at a club uptown. You’d never been but you knew it was high-end, elite, and intimidating. Powerful men frequented this club. You were dreading meeting them; misogynists and man-whores, you thought. It’s okay, I’m just a waitress. Your only job was to serve at the bar, and deliver drinks to those rich enough to reserve tables. All I need to do is look good and smile.

Your best friend, Nat, had managed to land the job for you. She’d been working at the club for 6 months, and the money was supposedly “incredible”. You remembered laughing at that, accusing her of flirting with the regulars.

With that thought, you picked up your jacket, hugging it around your body, and headed out the door.

You adapted to the job easily enough; the thumping music, the strobing lights. Nat was constantly approaching you, checking in on you, “you’re okay right? Well you look amazing”, she whispered in your ear, winking at you, as you poured another drink.

She helped you climatize to the new environment. When service slowed, you found yourself drinking in those who frequented the club. The men on the floor were sleazy, approaching women while heavily drunk. The girls were dancing, swinging their hips, some finding company in those men. A part of you was envious, this had never been your scene and you felt a little excluded.

You were dragged out of your thoughts by Natasha asking you to drop some drinks off at one of the reserved tables. You felt a little reluctant, the table being hidden by a velvet curtain. You had yet to do this part of the job yet. I wish I could eye them up before approaching. Another part of you felt a little excited though, anticipatory.

You headed to the table, deep and low voices sounding. Some men were laughing, and others engaging in low conversation. Pulling the curtain back, a silence fell across the group of men sitting in the secluded area. You paused, taken aback. You had semi-expected the men to ignore your presence, you hadn’t expected this.

“H-hello. I have five whiskey cokes?” Your voice came across weaker than you hoped under the intimidating stares of the men. You hated the way your claim sounded like a question.

Your eyes fell upon the man at the head of the table. All black suit, perfectly tailored, with his hair falling over his piercing blue eyes. He wreaked power. His eyes were raking over your face. Drinking you in. You felt the breath get stuck in your throat when you met his eyes. He is gorgeous.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” a deep voice emerged from the man. It posed more of a statement than a question. Could he sense your anxiety?

“Yes I am”, you were painstakingly aware of how breathy your voice sounded, and also of how you were still awkwardly standing with the tray in your hands.

You eyed the other men, seeing the way their eyes dragged over your body, your curves. You felt naked. The eyes of the man at the head of the table had never left your face. He was enamored.

You cleared your throat and placed the tray on the corner of the table, trying to hide the way your hands were beginning to tremble. God, why am I shaking? You shot the men a fake smile before spinning on your heel and pulling back the curtain, their eyes burning into your ass.

When you had left the table, Bucky cleared his throat. “Get her name. Her social media. Her address. I want to know everything about her”.

Once leaving the room, you hunted your best friend down. “Nat, the men I delivered those drinks to…”, you waved your hands incredulously, reminiscing on the tense encounter and expecting her to have an explanation.

“Yes?” She smirked. She knew exactly what you were referencing. The intensity, the intimidation.

“What the hell was that? I mean- the guy at the head of the table… questioned me about being new, and the rest of them… ugh”, you rambled, your hands punctuating your questions.

“Oh…”, she raised her eyebrows at you, her face glowering in how she knew information that you didn’t, “the guy that questioned you, yeah he owns the club”, her smirk growing into a Cheshire Cat grin. She knew she had dropped you in the deep end.

Your eyebrows practically flew into your hairline, “the o-owner? God, Nat I’ve made a clutz of mysel-, I was stood there with the tray for so long, he must think I’m so stupi-”

She cut you off. “Well, at least he actually acknowledged you. He never even looks at the rest of us”, she explained, only exaggerating your confusion. “Shame really, considering he is probably the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, I mean, I would”, she winked at you again.

You laughed at that, knowing that she really would. She always knew what to say, and she was right. He really was breath-taking. But, he was also your boss. He probably only noticed me because I did something wrong.

You didn’t allow yourself to dwell on the encounter, convincing yourself that you were overthinking the fire in his eyes. He was staring at you because you were so awkward. He could tell you felt out-of-place, you thought, sighing to yourself and shaking the thoughts. Serving people drinks and cleaning the bar made for the perfect distraction.

The night continued without event, you were glad. You felt yourself ease up over time, Nat making you giggle as drunk men tipped you rather excessively. You weren’t sure if it was your best friend's humour, or the feeling of knowing you’d managed to cover this week's rent, but you felt pleased.

You picked up your coat, and slung your bag over your shoulder, deciding to call a cab to get home. You felt eyes on you as you hugged Nat goodbye. Looking over her shoulder, you locked eyes with that man again. Your boss. Stood at the top of the stairs, overlooking the bar. In a vast crowd of people, his eyes were narrowed in on you. You unlocked from Nat, drowning out her qualms about letting her know when you arrived home safely. You couldn't focus on anything else. He was the epitome of power; tall, broad, perfectly tailored.

You had to force yourself to rip your eyes from his, bidding Nat a farewell and heading out the door.

Bucky watched you until the door shielded you from view. He was fixated. It was only when Steve slapped his hand down on Bucky’s shoulder that he was brought back to the present.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through her body if you keep staring at her like that, pal”, Steve stated teasingly. He saw the way you commanded his friends' attention from the second you approached the table. It had been a long time since he had seen someone have such an effect on him.

Bucky turned to Steve, an exhale escaping his nose, “she is… certainly something”.

Steve continued, “… innocent, right?”, eyeing Bucky for his reaction. He tread on eggshells, he knew Bucky had taken a shine to you, he didn’t want to overstep.

Bucky nodded, his jaw twitching, “too innocent to be working here”. The pair nodded in unison.

You stepped outside and took a deep breath, relishing in the relief of being released from his intense gaze. You hailed a cab, being pleasantly surprised by the car that rolled up to you. Sleek and matte. A Mercedes. This was the nicest taxi you’d ever seen. When the taxi pulled up to your apartment block, you attempted to pay him with a remainder of your tips.

“Fee has been covered by… James Buchanan Barnes”.

Part 2 here https://www.tumblr.com/hollyseb/737991483216494592/bartender-part-2

[sinsandsweetness]

thinking about living across the hall from Frank…

-> always running into him at the most random times. in the elevator or the lovey super late at night or bright and early in the morning. When he’s on his way to a job and you’re coming back from work. Or you’re on your way to study at the library and he’s got his keys and a bag of groceries in his hands. Always giving you a little nod of acknowledgment but neither of you ever have the courage to speak. To actually say hi.

-> until one day where you get locked out of your apartment. You lost your keys or something. And with your luck, your roommate works the night shift at the hospital. You’ve got no way in until morning.

-> So you find yourself stuck. An hour goes by and you’re sitting on the dirty carpet hallway floor. Leaned up against the wall. Eyes fluttering closed because hell it’s been a long day. Frank, on his way home from work, makes his ways down the hall. Concerned at first by the sight of your body laying in the hall. But he gets to his door and it’s just you, half asleep. You give him a soft smile and he finally asks you for your name. You explain your situation and he nods in understanding.

“Well don’t just sit there. C’mon.” He’d wave you into his place, lunchbox in hand. Dirty from a day of construction. In desperate need of a shower and some food.

-> you’re reluctant to come in. Not because of Frank. Or at least not because you didn’t like him. More so… the opposite. You found him intimidating. Handsome. Rugged. You always enjoyed running into him. Smiling at him in the elevator. Trying not to blush too hard. But there’s just this aura about him that makes you a little nervous. Butterflies or something.

-> he’d tell you to make yourself at home while you wait to get ahold of your roommate. Or come up with a plan to get your keys. To call the landlord. Though you doubt they’d answer at this hour.

-> he asks if you’re alright if he showers, “I’ll be quick. You can help yourself to the fridge.” He even grabs you a beer and places it on the table in front of you. Cracking one for himself as he heads for the washroom.

-> it feels weird. Being in a strangers home. It’s empty. Sad almost. Grey walls. Nothing… personal. Nothing that tells you anything about the man. It’s clean. As clean as any of the suites in you cheap ass apartment can possibly get. But it’s bland. It’s a bachelor suite. He’s got nothing more than the necessities. The basics. You can’t help but think about Frank. In this apartment. Every night by himself. He must be lonely.

-> you saunter over to the fridge. Not particularly hungry, but feeling slightly awkward just sitting at his table and doing nothing. There’s enough to make a weeks worth of sandwiches. And a more than a few weeks worth of beer. You take a swig of your bottle.

-> when the water shuts off, you get back to your spot at the table. Checking your phone. The messages with your roommate. He’s probably busy. Drawing blood. Stitching people up. Doing whatever it is he does as a surgical intern.

-> “you get ahold of him?” Franks voice brings you back.

“Oh, no. He’s- he’s probably busy. Works at the hospital so… um… thanks for inviting me in, but uh, I can just wait out there.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, getting up to leave.

“Wait out there? All night?” He asks. Your gaze goes down to his shirt. A little damp where beads of water are running down his neck. Off his beard. You look back up. He’s got such pretty eyes, you notice.

“Yeah, i’ll be alright.” You give him a tight lipped smile. But he’s not having it.

He shakes his head, “here,” he grabs a blanket from the supply closet. And a pillow. A pillowcase. He fumbles with the makeshift bedding for a moment until he makes the couch up. It does look nicer than the stained hallway carpet.

“You can’t stay out there. There’s some real… weirdos in this area. Wouldn’t want anything happening to you.” His concern makes your stomach flutter. Even if it’s just human decency. Courtesy of not wanting you to get mugged or murdered.

“You really don’t have to-“ you try to deny the offer but he grabs your bag. Gently pulling it off your shoulders and placing it against the wall.

“It’s just for the night. I don’t mind. Seriously.” His eyes are serious. Brows furrowed in concern.

-> the couch is cozier than you expected. Worn and used in the most perfect way. It takes you no time to fall asleep. Frank on the other hand, is having some serious insomnia. There’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, right outside his bedroom. Sleeping on his couch. Probably making his blanket smell like her vanilla perfume. It’s making his brain all fuzzy. He can’t think. Well, he can’t not think. You’re wearing one of his tee shirts. He offered it up. No, he insisted. And when saying goodnight from his bedroom doorway, he couldn’t help but notice that your pants were folded up on top of your bag, and your bare legs gleamed in the dim light of the living room, as you fluffed up your pillow.

-> the two of you had some very interesting dreams that night.

-> Waking up to the smell of coffee, you’re blushing hard when he hands you a mug. He tells you he has to leave for work. Lunchbox in hand, jacket on.

-> He didn’t ask for his shirt back.

-> you wave Frank goodbye as you watch him head down the hallway, and at the same time, you see your roommate come out of the elevator at the end. Both of them exchange a nod and a glance. Your roommate jogs up to let you both into your place.

“You coulda came to the hospital. Coulda grabbed my keys,” he says plopping himself down on the couch. Rubbing his eyes. Long night for him as well.

“I didn’t even think about it. He just- Frank invited me in and I was so tired… I mean, it seemed like a better option than sleeping in the hall…”

“Well it was real nice of him. Maybe you should make him a dish or somethin’. Lasagna? Y’know, to say thank you.”

“You just want some lasagna don’t you?” You smirk, rolling your eyes.

Your roommate smiles back. A low chuckle escapes his throat. “The man let you sleep on his couch. You better be sayin’ thank you somehow.”

continued here

(Idk what this is tbh but um… let me know what we think??)

[locallixie]

housemates — lee know

> summary . how can you live your life peacefully with having your housemate constantly seducing you like that?!

> genre . smut, fluff, housemates au, forced proximity, housemate!minho, gn!reader.

> warnings . sexual tension, general sexual themes, minor language, oral (receiving), unprotected sex, tipsy sex.

(wc) > 6.3k

(sunny's note) ☆ "and they were roommates.” wanted to be sweet and cute, until lee minho is in the equation. sorry for the late upload, i had a really bad writing slump and progress was slow. but i made it!

You shouldn’t have agreed to this if you knew this was how it would turn out. What a mistake, your kindness that yourself and other has taken for granted. And currently stuck in a living situation that tested your patience every waking hours, your dormitory experience was no match for this.

Jisung had asked you for a ‘small’ favour a couple months earlier, about how his friend got evicted and was now homeless, wondering if you could let him stay for a while until he find a new place. First of all, that was not a small favor. Secondly, you didn’t even know this friend that he was talking about. And you were reluctant to let a stranger stay in your house right off the bat. You lived in a dorm before, but that was a dorm and not your own house.

“Please, [Y/N], just a couple months.” Jisung pushed over the phone, you could tell he was outside from the loud and slightly muffled noise that the speaker picked up upon.

Sighing, your soft spot for him would be the death of you. Agreed with hesitation, since you were glad you were out of the dorm life and regained your privacy, but it seemed that life had came to pull you back in. Jisung should be expecting your complaints if something bad happened between you and your new housemate.

From the first initial meeting, you got some of the weirdest vibe from this guy. Maybe it was the amount of black and leather he was dressed up in, or the bitchy look on his face that could kill with a single stare. How the fuck was Jisung friends with a person like this? They were the complete opposite of one another, the guy looked as if he committed first degree murders as his favourite past-time. What you meant was you were convinced that he was a sociopathic killer, and he was probably plotting yours and Jisung’s death soon.

For one person, he sure did had a lot of stuff. You three brought around eight or ten different sized carton boxes up to your apartment, not counting the two gigantic suitcases that he had to take a second trip with Jisung to go get. He must have been living in his old place for very long to have that much stuff, wonder why he got kicked out? Possibly because the landlord found the bodies with how sharp his eyes always glared at.

“Don’t worry about the rent, Minho can pay for his half.” Jisung reassured, starting his car. The engine roared loudly, it had been through a rough day of carrying all that stuff to here.

Before he left, Jisung told you one last thing. “Oh, and don’t be afraid to ask him for help around the house, Minho may look intimidating but he’s quite a sweet guy.” With that sentence stuck in the back of your head, he drove away. If you could even have enough courage to ask him to take the trash out, maybe that statement would be proven.

You did all the house chores yourself, you didn't ask for any assistance from Minho. Wether it was because you were used to having to do everything yourself, or he was just still as unapproachable as the first time you two met. But he too, barely talked to you. You heard his voice once or twice when he was on the phone, but he did not speak a full sentence to you and ought for short few words replies.

"Do you need any help?" Another voice emerged from behind your back, offering assistance.

You pulled the trash bag out of the can, "I'm good, thanks,"

"Whatever, suit yourself." Minho walked away. Not even a bit of small talk? It frustrated you of how aloof he was acting, he didn't want to get to know you at all. However, it pissed him off just as much, you would always shrug him off every-time he offered to help you. As you two had made it clear before, you hardly knew each other, and here you were living together as people of unfamiliarity.

You didn't know his last name, or how he met your three years best friend—Jisung. Neither did he held any personal information about you, he wasn't even sure which variation of your name was the correct one. Already a month has passed by and no one was willing to start up a conversation with the other person. This ice between you and Minho just kept getting thicker and colder.

Ranting on the phone, "I'm telling you, I can not get through him! I think he hate me!"

"Calm down, [Y/N], he doesn't hate you." Jisung reassured, sighing as this was the third phone call of the month that you were expressing your discontent for the same subject. "It's simple, just talk to him, even if it's small talk."

Hearing the front door opened, "Fuck, he's back, I'll talk to you later." You didn't let Jisung say 'bye', hanging up in the midst of his sentence.

Minho worked a nine-to-five job, you weren't sure of his occupation in particular. You got a sense of his routine, he would leave the house at exactly seven-fifty in the morning and usually came home around five or six—depending on the traffic that day. On few occasions, he was nice enough to bring food home for the both of you.

"Hey, you're back quite late today?" You asked, seeing the clock already hitting six at the moment.

He set down a few plastic bags on the table, "I got groceries on the way, I'll cook dinner." He explained shortly, bringing ingredients to the kitchen for preparation.

That was a first, he had never offered to cook before, much less thanking you for the meals you made for dinner. Guessed he was just hot and cold like that, and this was his way of showing his gratitude. You weren't mad, on what normal day would you have someone cook for you enjoy? You technically did everything yourself when you moved out a few years ago.

Watching his figure diligently cooking in the kitchen, it comforted you in an unusual way. He was like your own personal boyfriend—for tonight at least, he would cook and then sit at the table with you to eat, maybe he might even offer to wash the dishes. A fine, hard-working young man? Anyone who could scored him would probably be winning in life. You couldn’t hide your jealousy if he ever bring home a date.

He walked over to you, holding out a spoon with a small portion of thick orange liquid. Minho asked, “Try it, tell me if it suit your taste.”

The tangy flavour stood out immediately, he must have put something citrusy as it melt into your tastebuds. It was good, no, amazing even! This hidden talent of his was worth all the waiting you had done, you never knew Minho could be such a great chef. For a while, you thought this guy couldn’t possibly hold a knife correctly, yet you were proven wrong of your assumptions.

You nodded, the sound you made when encountered good food already told him enough. Everything smelled so mouth-watering, and the presentation was tempting you to devour everything in on sitting.

"Thanks for the food!" As soon as he placed the last dish onto the table, you immediately picked up your utensils. You could not hold yourself back when face with good home-cooked food, good home-cooked food made by an equally good-looking guy.

Minho sat down beside you—he usually sat across from you which kept a nice distance between the two of you—he was very close today. Asked he, "How is it? Good?"

You didn't hold back on your praises, "God, why didn't you cook sooner? This is actual heaven~!"

He simply smiled in a humble manner. Your face was a little puffed up when you eat, which he found quite endearing. Watching you stuffed your entire face with rice, sweet and sour ribs, and eggrolls. Flattered by how much you were enjoying it, yet concerned from how fast you were eating.

"Slow down, wouldn't want you to choke." He gazed at you as he advised.

"Unless you like it like that." Immediately, you started coughing profusely. A grain of rice flew up to your nose, making everything worse the longer it stayed stuck up there.

Minho patted your back, "Woah, are you alright?" Uh, obviously no?! You were coughing out rice over here, how could you even be remotely okay? And how did he expect you to be okay after that suggestive comment he just made? This guy was unbelievable. The smile laced with deviousness, as if he was silently planning something that would catch you off guard—which certainly did a minute ago.

He picked up a single rib and ate it with his chopsticks, he probably mind getting his hands dirty from that sticky sauce he used. How could Minho looked so graceful while eating while you were here devouring everything down like a fucking caveman. Work on your image a bit, would you? Especially when you were living with someone that wouldn't use their hands to eat ribs.

"Have you been talking to Jisung recently?" Minho suddenly questioned, setting down his bowl as to show respect.

You turned to him, confusion sitting on your shoulders and your heart sinking with a bit of guilt. By any chance, did he overheard your conversations? "Yeah, I have." Continued by another question, "What? Are you two not talking?"

Minho's eyes was bigger than you expected, now seeing him a bit closer from your distance from each other. It curved in a very pretty way, and glistened upon every reflections of his soul. You couldn't help, couldn't help but get a little sad every-time you gazed into his eyes, or when they would unknowingly stared back at you. He looked at you, as if through his eyes saw you as the most precious person to exist in the short timespan that was the human life.

"He haven't been answering my texts and calls, I don't know if he's upset with me or something?" Minho sighed, "Can you...just ask him for me?"

In a bit of hesitation, "Would it be a bit rude for an outsider to chime in? Whatever it is you and Jisung are going through, it's best if you two worked it out together...privately." You told, trying to offer other solutions.

Minho let out a tired breath, "I don't know, I'm not sure what I did wrong that made him upset with me, that's what I'm most worried about."

You patted his back, "Just talk it out with him, communication is key!" How ironic, you could hardly hold a conversation with him, and now you were here giving out communication advise? Unreliable source. You knew you shouldn't interfere with whatever beef Jisung and Minho was having between each other, but you were making it seem like you wouldn't ask Jisung for details. Or Jisung would tell you himself from how much he like to rant to you.

Minho flashed a genuine smile towards you, "Thanks, I owe you one!"

Your heart skipped a beat, just one enough for your whole system to go the very bit haywire. You were finally making some good progress with Minho, and his entire intimidating and remote façade all came crashing down when he smiled. Keep up the good work!

“Are you and Minho back on speaking terms yet?” The other line went quiet for a few seconds, you heard a sigh being let out.

Jisung replied with a question, “He told you?”

Fuck, your nosy tendencies were acting up again, it slipped out of you like a natural instinct. “No—um, yeah he did but I don’t know the details or anything! He was just wondering if you were mad at him or something since you stop contacting him.” You went on to explain, trying to tell Jisung that you weren’t intending to be impolite and simply wanted to help your friend out.

The other giggled at your tone of voice, of how freaked out he got you. You acted as if the people you were working for to take down started suspecting you to be a double agent, but unlike those action films, you were terrible at hiding the truth.

“My girlfriend don’t like the fact that I’m still friends with my exes, so she wiped out their contacts from my phone.” The whole problem was finally solved as the explanation came out.

Wait, one thing. “Minho is your ex?!” You exclaimed at the sudden realization.

Jisung was absolutely enjoying this from the other line, “What? You want him?” He teased.

Your face went red, denying the question thrown at you. This whole time, this was the relationship your housemate has with your best friend? And he had never cared to tell you about anything regarding this romance he once had? All these people do was lie. Struggling through your words, you outwardly rejected the idea. “No—! No– I don’t! I—!”

Jisung interrupted, “It’s fine, he’s all yours.”

You tried denying, “No, I don’t want him—!” Quickly being cut of by Jisung once more.

“And he’s a really great kisser—”

“Jisung, shut the fuck up!” You hanged up in embarrassment, throwing your phone away in a state of panic. Why would he tell you that? As if you needed to be more careful around Minho now that you knew these things about him. God, how did he expect you to continue living with this knowledge? Unlike Jisung, you saw Minho everyday of the week.

The door to your bedroom suddenly opened, “Are you okay? I heard a thud.” Minho was still in his work attire, a tad bit sweaty from the heated summer air, the first two buttons of his shirt were left undone. Solely from the condition of his appearance was in, you were mentally restraining yourself.

“Did you just came back?” You asked, begging that he didn’t heard your conversation with Jisung on the phone a few minutes ago.

He replied shortly, “Yeah, I’ll go shower now so we can eat.” Closing your door as he left without another word, left silently with knowing what you said earlier. He heard enough of your phone call, you were too caught up with talking that you didn’t hear the front door open. Minho was halfway across the hall to his room when he heard you shouted, his name fell out from your mouth as clear as day.

Oh, Jisung never told you that he and Minho were a thing? Now it was kind of awkward for the both of you. But if you wanted him, he wanted you too. He saw the way you would look at him, stealing glances from across the table. He was a very attractive guy, you were sure he wholeheartedly knew this, and he used it to his advantage.

Coming out of a cold shower, his hair was wet and dripping water down his back and shoulders, but at least have some respect for you by covering up his entire bare torso. At the dinner table? Was he going to be half-naked for the whole duration of dinner? He wanted you dead, you boldly claimed.

“So…how was work?” You opened up a topic, hoping he would start talking to fill the silence that was ongoing between the two of you.

Minho let out a chuckle, "Not fun." Handing you a pair of chopsticks and a ceramic bowl. That was understandable, he did looked quite worn out coming home after work.

"What do you do, if you don't mind me asking." You raised a question into his occupation.

He began picking up food from the many plates into his bowl, the wondrous scent controlled his chopsticks faster than his mind. Minho answered while pouring the meat broth over his rice, "I'm an accountant."

An accountant? Was that a code word for sex workers? No one in their right mind would go into accounting. Minho out of all people, worked as an accountant? You had no negative comments on his intelligences, or his work ethics. But accounting sounded so boring for someone as interesting as Minho, you thought what he said was a joke of some sort. Maybe he had a side hustle doing unconventional and dirty jobs.

"It's not fun, but I got bills to pay." Minho joked to lighten up the mood, filling in the empty pauses with yours and his joyful laughs.

He shook his head in a subtle yet prominent dissappointment, smiling to hide his actual emotion on his feeling of unfulfillment. "I wish I became a singer back then."

What he said piqued your interest, you looked up at him with a spark of excitement. Straight into his eyes, you asked. "You sing?"

His vocals was almost professional singer level, for a first in the short timespan of knowing him, you saw such happiness on his face. Holding the microphone as he sang you a love song, the amount of money you spent on that karaoke machine paid off. Minho wasn't wrong or thought too highly of himself when he said he should had became a singer, you would have said the same thing if you knew him sooner. And if he did, you would support him with your all.

The atmosphere got a bit hotter and hotter as the night went on, with alcohol entering the table as an uninvited guest. When a sensual song came on, the mood totally changed for better or worse. His loose t-shirt was showing some skin, it was too a little short as it was showing peeks of his toned stomach underneath. Your mind was going places, wether it was because of the alcohol getting you tipsy or it was your inner desires for intimacy.

Minho did not broke eyes-contact with you, in a hushed voice, stating that you were the only beauty he would keep in his sight tonight. Gently holding your hand in his, he placed it on his chest. Did you feel it? Under the warm and shaking palm of yours. His heart beating at a tiny bit quicker pace than usual, beating for you with all of these temptations in him.

"Minho, I should go to bed now, it's getting awfully late." You told, diverting away in a flustered mess. Yet, despite your attempt at diluting the air, Minho persuasion didn't seem to back down. Too heated, too close as you could now smell his liquor-laced breath.

Eyes half-lidded which made his desires just the more prominent, he was serious with no control. Before your lips could touch one another, a loud vibration emerged abruptly that pulled both of you out of that drunken trance.

Blindly grabbing for your phone, your eyelids were giving up as each minute continued to pass by. You didn't look at the contact name, the alcohol was taking over your system like a pernicious poison. A voice echoed out from your phone speaker, it took you a few seconds to register the other line’s speaking and its distinct frequency.

“Where is your report?! [Y/N], you are driving me crazy with your constant delays!” They roared at you, annoyed and angered.

You got off from your place on the couch, walking away with your phone in hand as you used your last few excuses to save yourself. “Seungmin, it’s not really a good time right now, can I call you back?”

Seeing you caught up with work on the line, he figured he would clean up this mess you two made on the coffee table for you. For a moment, he thought you felt it too. He might had read the room wrong, but the way you tried to avert from the situation felt almost like a reassurance for him. As if you wanted to go further with him, go little deeper, but you were unsure if he was onboard as well. He thought of apologizing, after you sober up more than the state you were in at the moment.

You swore, you couldn't remember anything from the night before. Went to bed at nearly one in the morning, woke up head-empty and half of the blankets and pillows were off your bed. Come on, you could confidently say that you did not exceed your limit. Yet as shown this morning, you had a rough night yesterday with the leftover liquor running through your veins.

You were absolutely dumb-founded when he said he was sorry for what happened last night, as if you remembered everything clearly to its very details. Let's see, you ate dinner, you talked, sang a couple songs out of boredom you assumed, then it all when foggy after that.

"What are you on about? I have no idea of whatever the hell you are apologizing for." Telling him straight up, you could not register anything he was saying to make any sense.

Frustrated, and a bit taken over by the shame from yesterday. "No, it's okay, you're better off not knowing anyway. Sorry for making a scene so early in the morning."

Minho finished the few last sips of his Americano, grabbing his laptop bag from under the dining table in a hurry. "I have to go now, see you again at six." He bid goodbye at the front door.

Before he go for the next ten hours, you told him tonight's plan. "I have a few friends over tonight, if you don't mind their companies."

"How many are coming?" Minho asked.

You tilted your head as you tried to remind yourself of the size of your party, maybe even the identities of your guests as well. "Just three. Jisung is going to be there too, if you want to see him."

You could forget anything, anything that you deemed important. But one thing that you couldn't seem to shake off your mind, as it has been bugging you ever since you knew of it, was the bygone romance Minho had with your best friend—happened to be Jisung. Now that you were non-actively trying to persue the guy, it left a bittersweet taste in your mouth. Though Jisung had affirmed that the past was in the past, you could court his ex-boyfriend all you want.

Minho looked down, "We'll talk later, okay? I'm late for work." Leaving things unfinished between you, he closed the door as he left.

You didn't work until around noon, you could work from home if you wanted, yet you still came into the office everyday since things moved faster with you being physically there. But after that call from Seungmin—head of your department, you were already considered brave for the mere thought of showing up. Despite how nice Seungmin actually was, his anger was incomparable to anything you had ever seen.

After your short shift, you went back home to get things prepare. On the way home, you had already picked up a few ingredients. Said ingredients were just a six-pack of cold beers and Gochujang sauce for the beef. The others wouldn't come for another hour, for the time being, you would have to get everything ready by yourself.

Pray to god that the table grill was still working today since you haven't brought it out for a good few years now, it was collecting dust in the very far back of your cupboard. The hangout had been planned for a little while already, you got most of the things a day or two prior.

Was Minho going to join you? His expression carried a bit of hesitation when you asked this morning, though you would be happy to have him if he did changed his mind. The more the merrier!

Hyunjin and Jisung came over just a tiny bit earlier than Felix, guessed he was caught up with some baking for desert. You and your friends were all gathered up together at the dining table, it felt crowded by how small of a space you had to eat for four people. Happy that Hyunjin’s beer wasn’t on the floor since it was standing so confidently at the edge.

“When is Minho coming home?” Jisung suddenly turned to you.

“I don’t know, usually he would be back by now.” You shrugged, just now noticing today’s abnormalities. Maybe something came up at the office, or he had something else he needed to do beside from work matter. Whatever it was, you just hoped he would get home safety.

Speak of the devil, not even ten minutes had passed and the front door softly rang of clicking keys. You came to open the door for Minho, meeting his slightly stunned expression. His glossy tired eyes under the dirty frames of his glasses gazed back at you, his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead as if he ran his way home. God, he looked rough, but so strangely enticing at the same time.

"Hey, we were just talking about you!" You beamed.

"Sorry, I'm late. My digital files got corrupted, so I had to get I.T to check that bitch out." Minho sighed deeply, you could imagine how long it took to resolve it purely from how worn out he presented.

The others greeted him at the dining table, getting a stool for him to sit since you were out of chairs. Minho was sandwiched between you and Hyunjin, one he knew, one he didn’t. He felt the tiniest bit uncomfortable sitting in such a tight spot, especially when yours and his thighs were rubbing against each other. He didn’t mind it too much, he liked you anyways.

“Ah, Minho! This is Hyunjin, and that’s Felix, they’re my college friends.” You introduced. Though he was a year older, they treated him with a casual formality. Felt more like meeting old friends than new people, your group broke the ice a lot quicker than he had previously expected. Soon you all were drinking and chatting, learning a bit too much about each other for the first meeting.

Felix tapped out, “No more, I’m driving tonight.” With Jisung following along as most had already decided to stop drinking, including you.

You placed your hand on the shoulder of the person next to you, “Are you still going? Damn, you must know how to handle your liquor.”

Minho stared back at you as you spoke to him, his eyes half-lidded like the night before. The first few buttons were unfastened, his bare and defined chest laid underneath the thin fabric. A sheer cast of sweat made his body glistened by the overhead light, his glasses was slowly slipping off his nose bridge which reflected the sweat even more than it should have. His face was flushed red and pink everywhere, flushed from a love confession of a drunken mind. Any minute now, he might just be making out with you.

His heart and guts was burning up with these carnal desires, if your friends weren't here, you could bet he would be fucking your brains out like how you so desperately wanted him to. He wanted you just as much, so shamelessly wanted you.

Minho leaned in suddenly, his lips and hot intoxicated breath lingered your ears. Whispered gently with his mellow, sleepy tone of voice, "When are they leaving?"

“We’re just going to have some tea and brownies, they’ll be on their way soon. Why do you ask?” You returned, asking in with a bit of hesitation in the back of you mind. Could it be he was overloaded enough, or did he not like your friends? You doubted the second one, since they had so much fun together. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

He didn’t further elaborate, ending the subject then and there with no other explanation. His intentions were unclear, as if he was hiding something from you but you couldn’t figure out what it was. Hopefully not something shady, or would leave you with a bad image of Minho. Keep it simple, he was probably tired and he needed a bit more peace and quiet. And he couldn't get any peace and quiet if your friends were here, right?

You wanted him to take off his shirt, take every single piece of fabric on his body off, let you admire all of his grace and beauty. Occupied with drooling over your housemate, the teapot seemed to had slipped your mind.

"Fuck!" Yelped you, the heat of the hot tea finally burned your skin.

Hearing pain from your voice, Minho and the others were already there to aid you. Especially Minho, he grabbed your hand into his as soon as he noticed. Luckily for you, the injury was minor and running it through cool water was good enough.

Minho really has you in a chokehold, metaphorically speaking obviously—unless. If you two did become a thing, would it be a little awkward? Maybe not for Jisung, but you were unsure of how or what to think in a situation like this. Though, despite how much you might try to push the idea away due to having quite a lot of repect for your best friend, you couldn't help yourself.

Seduction existed in his eyes and body language, it was subtle yet effective. An absolute disaster that the two of you also lived together, which pumped you up with an amount of hormone that a high-school student would have.

The way he dressed may be ordinary, office worker fashion. His shoulders flexing in his fitted button-up, straight dress pant hugging his thighs. His thick frame glasses further accentuated his winsome features. There was no exaggeration that he, for a definite, has a lot of admirers from work. You too, would be weak on your knees if Minho was your colleague.

It was around eight o’ clock by the time you finished up, which wasn’t late—at least to your definition—but tomorrow was still a work day. Especially for Hyunjin, who was flying out of the country for a business trip, of which it was crucial for him to leave early morning for his flight.

“I’m catching a cab home.” Jisung answered when you asked him how he was going to get home without a car, since the other two already left on their separate ways.

“No, I’ll drive you home.” You offered kindly.

“You drank a lot tonight, you really shouldn’t be driving, [Y/N].” Jisung denied, pointing out the slight alcoholic haze you were in. He wasn’t wrong, you were a literally beast with the bottle. However, you were awake enough to still talk normally and sort of think, like being half asleep.

Reassuring you that he would be fine on his own, and that he would be sure to text you when he arrived at his place. You knew Jisung for too long for you to be worried about him on trivial things, it simply felt like the right thing or a common habitual saying you had going on. You just wanted to take extra precautions since you both had been drinking the whole night, and there were quite a lot of problems existing because of it.

"Don't worry about me too much," Jisung soothed you once more. However he had no regards for what a sentimental moment that was happening between the two of you, immediately back to his ways of joking to dilute the air. "You should be worrying about if Minho can keep his dick in his pants near you."

You smacked him on his shoulder, "Shut up, he's right over there!"

"I mean...I see the way y'all look at each other, we all know, [Y/N]." He commented, giving you a playful look. You wanted to murder Jisung, and you would make it look like an accident too. Were you being that obvious about your feelings? But the way Minho acted around you didn't help too!

Jisung waved goodbye to you and to Minho—who was in the kitchen, washing up dishes and shot glasses. "I'll see you on Saturday for coffee if you can even get out of bed, bye!"

Nodding, as you watched him walk away from your apartment to the main elevator, realization hit later than expected. You yelled out in annoyance but Jisung would definitely laughed it off and ignore you. "Hey, we're not fucking!"

You had to stay up to finish a few reports and lone documents, so that meant you wouldn't be able to see Minho during his morning coffee. Coming over to offer another hand in cleaning up, it wasn't a big mess but was a mess nonetheless. You might take care of everything for Minho to get some well-deserved rest that he has been needing.

Minho turned around as he felt a tap on his shoulder, "Let me take it from here, you should be getting ready for bed by now."

"No, I'll help." Minho single-mindedly refused your offer. "And too, I can't sleep with this raging boner you gave me."

Too sudden, too out of nowhere, your neck snapped to him when you heard him said those words. His expression was neutral, as natural as if he had said and had done nothing wrong. Still washing dishes and bowls, scrubbing and rinsing like he has been doing the same thing for years. Did he heard himself at least, or was it a thought that went loose.

"Oh, sorry." What the fuck were you supposed to reply to that? Thank you? Was that a compliment in disguise of some sort? Feuling the fire even more, the desires becoming stronger and intense, he had agreed to throw away his principles already.

Minho inched closer to you, his eyes on yours as he asked nicely for attention. "If I tell you that I want to fuck you right here right now, would you be mad?"

Face flushed, hot as when you would place your hand on your tea cup to check the temperature. He was evil, disregarding your state of mental stability by saying things of the same kind so out of pocket. He, for a fact, waited for the right time to confess his sins. The kettle was boiling all night, the heat and steams were his deepest thoughts.

You turned off the sink, your hands cool and wet and smell of dish soap from the water. For a split moment, you were solely looking at each other, begging either one to make a move. Minho leaned in towards your direction, his bare forearms brushed gently against yours. The alcohol in both of your bodies made the moment all the more intimate, slowly yet steadily closing your distance between each other, breaking down the wall of sexual tension you had unconsciously built that stood with all its might.

The faint taste of his strawberry chapstick on your tongue, his lips was a little sticky but so soft that you didn’t quite mind. There was no way of stopping him, as you too, did not want to stop the thrill ride that was ongoing. Letting out heavy breaths as he sucked dark red marks onto your skin, lips painting your blank canvas. May he be the only alcohol you would get drunk on, let you drink him up like your sorrows and distress.

“Oh, Minho.” You breathed, moaning out his name as his hands rushing to take off your pants. Hot tongue making a line on your stomach down to your sex, freely as his mouth worked on you like how you dearly enjoyed his food. Both your legs resting on his broad shoulders just did nothing but helped spread you wider.

Your sweet voice singing out to encourage him, using his tongue in all directions that favoured you. Stomach knotting with alcohol and dinner and a heaven he had created for you, coming onto his lips, a result of prolonged temptations.

Every fabric that touched yours and his bodies that day were all scattered on the floor by second round. Never even seen your best friend naked, and here you were admiring his ex-boyfriend’s entire unclothed figure with no ounce of shame left in yourself. You could not keep your hands away from him, so greedily touching him in different places.

Neither could wait any longer, deciding to lay each other’s pride out on the dining table. Minho placed his lips on yours, closing his eyes yet still seeing the vivid image of you in his dark mind. With each passing second, his cock making its way into the very depths of you. You hugged him quite tightly, as if you haven’t scored anyone in a while.

Your eyes told him everything he needed to know, you body twitching and squirming under his embrace, the silent language that told him every one of your secrets. Thrusting faster and harder, wanting to hear you make some more music for his aching soul. Minho grabbed your legs, pushing them against your torso as his cock went deeper into you. You could barely keep your eyes open, or could you stay present with him. This pleasure felt like a dream, a dream that softly pulled you in.

Minho kissed your lips once again, “Baby, don’t sleep on me, I’m not done with you just yet.”

But as much confidence that he may has in him, he was nearing his high and coming apart for you along the way. Minho’s vocals were heavenly when he sang for you, and were just as heavenly when he came into you. He kept going despite being out of breath and tired for you, he started something and he was going to finish it.

Second time felt much more powerful than the first, almost like he gave his all. You could feel his seeds dripping out from inside of you, onto the dining table and even the chairs. Dirtying everything all over again, now you had more cleaning to add onto your list. Guessed neither of you were going to get any sleep tonight.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Article From the TotalFilm Magazine, Issue August 2023 :)

POST APOCALYPSE GOOD OMENS The heavenly and hellish creations of Gaiman and Pratchett ride again…

Having averted Armageddon, angel Aziraphale (Michael Sheen) and demon Crowley (David Tennant) have settled down to the quiet life in London – but the arrival of a familiar face shakes things up for everyone.

Season 1 covered events in the novel you wrote with Terry Pratchett – what was the inspiration this time?

Neil Gaiman (showrunner): Terry and I were sharing a room at Seattle’s World Fantasy Con in 1989 and, by the end of one night chatting, we had a huge, apocalyptic sequel to Good Omens. Season 2 is all the stuff we had to put in place before we could get to that sequel, and it starts with the archangel Gabriel [Jon Hamm] wandering through Soho, with no memory – a mystery that doesn’t have giant consequences for the universe, even if it does for Aziraphale and Crowley.

What has changed between Crowley and Aziraphale?

David Tennant (Crowley): Aziraphale is a much more enthusiastic detective in this mystery and, as with most things, Crowley is reluctant to get involved or to exhibit any kind of energy or enthusiasm, so he’s dragged into it. They no longer have to report to head offices, so they’re in this slightly grey area – neither supernatural, nor of the Earth.

Michael Sheen (Aziraphale): They’ve always been the only two beings who could understand each other’s position, but now they’re slightly freer agents so they’re pushed even closer together. It’s an interesting dynamic.

Maggie and Nina, you’re back too – although not as satanic nuns this time…

Nina Sosanya (Nina): No – we’re two human women! Nina is slightly cynical, churlish and owns a coffee shop, Maggie runs the record shop and she’s rather sweet and hopeful. It’s an ‘opposites attract’ thing and Neil kindly gave the characters our names so we couldn’t say no.

Maggie Service (Maggie): Aziraphale is still running his bookshop, but he’s also Maggie’s landlord. She thinks he’s the best because he lets her stay on and doesn’t really mind if she doesn’t make too much money. Maggie and Nina act as catalysts in a way, when Crowley and Aziraphale get involved in their relationship.

Neil, you’ve had some writing help this year…

NG: That’s right. We have three 25-minute ‘minisodes’ within episodes. You learn Aziraphale and Crowley’s part in the story of Job, written by John Finnemore. Cat Clarke takes us to 1820s Edinburgh for a tale of bodysnatching. Finally, Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman reunite the League of Gentlemen, because I fell in love with Season 1’s Nazi spies and kept wondering what would happen if they came back as zombies on a mission from hell to investigate whether Crowley and Aziraphale were fraternising. That story involves the Windmill Theatre, black market whisky, and a bullet catch…

[missmonsters2]

⚡ Scared of thunderstorms

🫂 Comforting hugs

With Tara>>>>

If you don't wanna that's okay but thank you😭

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader/OFC

Warnings: hurt/comfort. exes trope. Tara is so slkdfjds. unbeta'd we die like ghostface.

Library Blog | AO3

Note: you saying it's okay if i don't wanna is so cute for some reason. I already did a thunderstorm & hug tara prompt, so I hope it's okay I made this hurt/comfort to change it up 😭

Count: 999 (🧍‍♀️)

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷🗡⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You're in the middle of grocery shopping when your phone vibrates in your pocket, disrupting the music playing from your earbuds. You pull out your phone from your back pocket, looking at the screen before pursing your lip.

You debate whether to answer it or not, but the lingering anxiety under your skin doesn't allow you to ignore it.

With a puff of a quiet sigh, you answer. "Hey, Sam," you greet, slightly wary. 

"Hey," Sam greets back, and through the phone, you can hear the rain outside, and you know she must be standing near a window. There's a rumble of thunder, and your heart drops, knowing why she's called. "Listen, I wouldn't call you unless it was—"

"The last resort?" You finish her sentence and hear a resigned sigh on the other end. "Sam, I can't keep doing this—not after everything Tara put me through."

"I know," the words are terse, and you can practically hear Sam swallowing. "But no one can calm her down. Please—" Sam's voice is pleading desperately. "The neighbors are going to complain, and the landlord isn't exactly thrilled with us."

You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath. Thunder rumbles, and you hear noises in the background, sighing in resignation, abandoning your grocery-filled cart. "Fine, I'll be there in 15 minutes."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷🗡⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You're mostly dry when Mindy lets you through the door as you bring an umbrella. 

"Hey, stranger," Mindy greets you with a lopsided smile that seems sad. "Nice to see your face."

"Nice to see yours, too," you give a small smile back. It was good to see Mindy, you admit. Her witty and charming personality had been refreshing to be around. You grin. "Well, mostly."

"Fuck you," Mindy's smile turns amused. "My face could cure any ailment."

"Considering you got stabbed six months ago, I'll let you have that."

Mindy snorts as you walk through the apartment. You see Chad hanging by a bedroom door, and you give him a terse smile that he returns. 

"Are they in there?" You ask, and Chad nods, looking reluctant to tell you. 

"Yeah," Chad's jaw is clenched. "We've been trying to get her to sit down but she refuses."

You nod, running your hand through your hair nervously as you step past him, pushing the door open. 

"Tara, please, just sit down. It's just a little thunder, is all," You see Sam immediately, and Tara's standing far from the window, pacing back and forth with tears running down her face as she cries, looking manic. 

Sam notices you immediately, relief on her face, and you nod at her. She touches your shoulder, asking if you want to be alone.

Your first instinct is to say no, but you can't bear having Sam witness what's about to happen. So, you nod, trying to appear less tense. Sam notices, anyway, giving you an apologetic look before she exits the room. 

Tara doesn't even notice you initially, and you feel rooted in where you stand. But then, a white flash fills the room, and Tara looks at the window terrified, and you know you only have seconds before she starts screaming. 

"Tara," you say, forcing your voice to be louder than the rain. The sound of your voice snaps Tara's attention to you. Her eyes instantly well up at the sight of you as she rushes across the room toward you, throwing her arms around your waist as she holds you tightly. 

Your arms automatically return her hold, embracing her tenaciously in a way you know makes her feel safe. 

Her face is pressed into your neck, and you can feel the dampness of her eyes. Your name keeps falling from her lips repeatedly as she grasps at the back of your shirt. 

"Tara," you whisper, and she can only hear it through the vibration against her temple. "Tara, it's okay. I'm here."

"I'm sorry," Tara chokes out. "I'm so, so sorry." 

You swallow harshly, clenching your jaw as if it will ease the pain you feel in your chest. You know Tara's not apologizing for making you come here tonight. She's apologizing for the fact you're not here in the first place. 

Tara's saying sorry for accusing you so harshly that you were Ghostface. There was a part of you that understood it and forgave her for it, knowing the circumstances of her life and the fact that you're never supposed to trust the love interest. 

Tara's saying sorry for leaving you with a broken heart instead of letting you prove it wasn't you—and you would've done anything to prove it if you were given a chance. 

"It's okay," you rub her back soothingly to calm her down.

But it wasn't. 

"That doesn't matter."

At least, right now, it didn't. 

You walk with Tara in your arms, guiding her to her bed. She almost refuses to leave your arms, but you keep your hands on her as you climb into bed beside her. You lift your arm over her shoulder and pull her close as she rests her cheek against your collarbone. 

Tara is still crying as she adjusts and rests on her side, pressed against you. Her eyes are closed from exhaustion, but she refuses to sleep. Her brain is running amuck between fear of the thunderstorm and fear of you being gone when she wakes up. 

Tara knew it wasn't fair to you, but all she could do was think about how to keep you here and get you back. 

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I miss you."

"Me too," you reluctantly admit with a sigh. 

"I know it's my fault," Tara whispers, "but I don't want to be without you."

You lean your head back, telling yourself to forget everything for now and enjoy holding someone you still love, even if they broke your heart. 

"Let's just talk after the thunderstorm, okay?"

Tara's hand moves to yours and grasp it, feeling better that you don't pull away. "Okay."

[chiefdirector]

Realising | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen

Nyla sighed as she shifted her weight from her right foot to her left. Her back had started to hurt from sitting on the ground so she had opted to read some of the files standing to scratch out. The self storage unit, once in immaculate condition, looked as if the Road Runner had sped through here, leaving destruction and chaos behind. The files that were neatly tucked away in boxes had been spread out across the floor into piles. There were three main piles; one for irrelevant articles, one for people who potentially may have been hired to take over Regina’s dirty work, and the last for recognisable threats to either (Y/N), her loved ones, or members of the LAPD.

“Still no answer, I'll try again soon,” Nyla clicked the phone shut before walking towards (Y/N) who sat, legs crossed, in the middle of the havoc. “Can I ask you something?”

(Y/N) looked up at Harper, gesturing for her to sit. Harper refused, so (Y/N) nodded. “Sure, shoot.”

“Obviously there is a clear threat to the LAPD. Did you not think to report it? Even through an anonymous tip. You took a massive liberty by dealing with this by yourself.” Nyla ran a hand over her head as she shifted her weight once again. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

“I thought the threat was for me. A way to keep me in line, to keep me away, hopeless even. And it was, she followed through on her threats” (Y/N) answered honestly as she looked away from Harper, not enjoying her judgemental gaze. “I kept tabs on Diaz the best I could, and the station. She was watching me, and I was watching her. We were almost in a stalemate.”

“Almost?” 

“Almost.” A melancholy look flashed across (Y/N)’s face, eyes sparkling in sadness as she reached for the two polaroid pictures she had swept up into a file when the pair arrived. With some reluctance, she held the pictures out to Nyla. “The first was my brother, Theo. When I went to the police to get a message home, I returned to the safe house where I was staying and found that photo. His death was on the news. I received the second one a couple of months later. March 16th, mine and Tim’s anniversary.”

“Why him?”

“His name was Reggie Lambert. I met Tim at his cafe on that day, he was my old landlord. We went to that coffee shop every year on March 16th. I went there alone to see Tim, even if he wouldn't see me. Reggie wasn’t even working, he suddenly retired a few weeks before… I thought he'd be working there forever. When I got back to where I was staying, that photo was on my bed. He was on the news the next day.”

Nyla nodded slowly, before placing a comforting hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) sniffed and wiped her eyes to stop the tears before they started to fall. “Not your fault.”

“It isn’t yours either.”

“I’m the reason they're dead, Harper. If I had just stayed away…”

“Then she would have killed them to tempt you back.” Harper pulled (Y/N) up from the ground. She went to speak but she cut herself off in thought. Nyla took a moment before continuing. “You said that picture was there when you arrived from the coffee shop, and that Reggie wasn’t working.”

“Yeah…?”

“She wouldn't have had the time to track him down and do all of that as well as get that picture to you. That kind of work takes time.”

“What are you saying?”

“That it isn’t your fault.” Nyla bent down to start gathering up the files. “I think he was long dead. I think he was killed to send a message, not only to you, but to all of us.”

(Y/N) nodded, taking a moment to process what Harper was saying, and the implication behind it all. If it was true, then there must have been a reason other than revenge to send (Y/N) away. There were so many loose ends that they hadn’t even begun to consider. “We need to get back to the station, try to call Grey again.”

“Already on it.” Nyla smiled at (Y/N), trying to be reassuring. “Now, help me get this stuff into the shop.”

- - - - -

On the way back to the station, Harper had finally gotten through to Grey, and demanded that a team be put together on this. She had hung up quickly, not allowing him any time to question her. When the pair walked into the briefing room, each holding a box of files, they were greeted by Tim, Lopez, West, Chen, Grey and Nolan all waiting expectantly.

“Care to tell us why you’ve gathered us all here, Detective Harper?” Grey said, crossing his arms.

“We went to an old storage locker of (Y/N)’s today. Going through all the paperwork she had from her time away. We think we found a pattern.”

(Y/N) walked over to Tim’s side as Nyla talked to the room. He shifted so she could lean some of her weight against him. Gently he lowered one of his arms to rest his hand on her back, silently comforting her. 

He looked down at his wife, only half listening to Nyla. (Y/N) would fill him in on any details he missed anyways.

You okay? He silently asked.

I will be. 

Good. Tim replied, nodding as his thumb moved back and forth before he turned his attention back to Nyla.

“I don’t think this was an act of revenge. Something didn’t sit right with me from the get-go. And when (Y/N) mentioned the murder of Reggie Lambert. The timelines didn’t line up.”

“What does Reggie have to do with this?” Tim asked, thoughts of the old man rushing through his head. He had been the officer called out when Reggie was reported missing. It broke his heart to lose another part of his life he had before; it broke even more when the case went cold and they found his bruised and beaten body on the side of the highway. 

He wanted to put that hurt in the past, leave it dead and buried where it belonged.

“Regina sent me this picture of him one day;” (Y/N) fished the polaroids out of her pocket and passed the second one to Tim. She watched as he pulled away from her and passed the polaroid to Grey. “March 16th to be precise. I went to the coffee shop. When I got back to where I was staying, I found this on my bed.”

“This says ‘Strike Two,’ what was ‘Strike One.’” Grey asked, placing the photograph on the table and turning his attention to (Y/N).

“It was Theo. I had tried to go to the local PD. I gave a message for them to give to you but it never got back here. Someone clearly recognised me and interfered. When I got back to the safehouse, I found this like I did the others. On my bed, my place was broken into. Nothing stolen, nothing damaged. Just a message.”

“That’s why we called you all here. We were going over these files, and the photos. The timelines don’t add up.” Harper gestured to the boxes. “I think there is something bigger at play here.”

“What do you mean?” Chen asked, piping up for the first time.

“I don’t think Regina was ever the threat we thought she was. She’s clever, I’ll give her that. But I think someone else saw her attempt at revenge as a way to get things done and not get any blame.”

“But we don’t know who.” (Y/N) interjected. “And that's what scares the crap out of me.”

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Act two

Tags: @xceafh  @kmc1989  @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath

Tags are open :)

[spotlightlowlife]

How innocent Lucifer/girl boss Lilith could work

Since it's now been decided that Lucifer has been defeated and depressed, but no less fun all these years

while Lilith thrived as soon as Lucifer's hell became a thing, and now she is being called on to step up, how could these be used to explain away

• the messy hierarchy

• the shithole that is hell

• the other six sins

• the other demons that aren't sinners

Unfortunately, blame it all on Lilith could be the solution

(it's not like there isn't form for this already).

First off, she will slot in easily to the mothers trend.

Lilith being no angel but a human, perhaps not having much power of her own outside of her prestigious marriage and no respect from the heaven borns, only really having a connection to the once human sinners and whatever few prehistoric people that are somewhere in the crowd of the abundance of new people born over millennias could be why things are such a mess?

Lucifer could easily be the equivalent of the sugar daddy (again, form on multiple occasions) who is the investor and landlord who ultimately has to be answerable for what goes on in his turf on his tab, reluctant or not.

Absolutely anything goes in this realm.

Maybe it's because the true owner doesn't want to bother and the manager can only do so much? A workplace like this tends to be chaotic and all things serious stop mattering.

Since Lilith had fame

her popularity could easily lead to some leadership since fans and maybe an entourage will look up to her and certian people in certain places may rub shoulders with her, now look into the old stories of Lilith, who was said to have left Adam to live in another part of the garden to hang out with demons and have an affair with the devil, it all cosigngs Hazbin Lilith.

Since she was able to hang with Lucifer, what if she too befriended the other six sins?

What if she's the one doing business with them?

What if they're hired middle management helping to create order out evil?

What if Lilith is one if the sins?

Though the Hazbin series focuses solely on the sinners where the pilot didn't, we all know that there are various races of demons in hell, now look at the three sins we have met, along with additional royalty Stolas and Paimon (who seems to have children of various kinds)

they don't look remotely alike, so what if the sins or other high ups like them touched down in hell with 'lesser' little demons like them?

The sinners could simply be Lucifer's reluctant responsibility because the fruit was his doing, maybe he and Lilith did cheat heaven accepted Adam or blamed and not worked upon Eve out or a god role over their descendants?

Are we supposed to believe that Lilith has no knowledge of good and evil (what the fruit historically contained)?

How true is Charlie's storybook?

What if Lilith hazbin Eve all along?

[witchersmistress]

Little Lamb for Slaughter

Hello my darlings, reality pulled me away for some time and this dude almost ended up in my punish room.. little shit.. this was another request by @livesinfantasyland

Summary: its is a spring evening in 1884, Sherlock has taken on a rather difficult case. one that makes him question everything he though he knew about the Hudson Family.

Triggers warnings: loss of virginity, both male and female, illegal gambling, auctioning off of people, blood, tooth ache endusing sweetness. mentions of fire arm, after care.

Word count: 3.4 K

80. Sex as a performance/third person watches.

Sherlock’s POV

50 minutes south of London, we arrived at this gentlemen’s club in Reading. It was a seedy underground gentlemen’s club to which the man in question I am looking for happens to be there. With a reluctant sigh, I climb out of my carriage into the dimly lit streets.

Walking into the club, looking around as I made my way down the stairs, passed the illegal gambling tables, the long stage in the middle of the room, that men flock to as the women fly back and forth on the trapeze as men holler from the balconies above. Looking in the crowds for the unscrupulous character I was looking for, I found him indeed  Mr. Hudson, married to one Mrs. Hudson, the landlords of 221b Baker street.

Taking a glass of brandy, I sit in the corner, observing the room but watching him from the corner of my eye. Mrs. Hudson admitted her worry for her daughter, she was afraid that he was putting their daughter in harm's way, she was coming home with unexplained bruises and could barely look at her father, let alone be in the same room as him. So I've followed him for weeks and learned his schedule. He had a rather large gambling debt but yet he was still able to play at the tables. A rather large gentleman  came up to him and pulled him in my direction  “She is refusing to cooperate, make her” he hissed at him before shoving him off. He stumbled into a group of men and one helped him to his feet.

He pushed past men, and made his way for the stage. Getting up slowly I followed him to the stage and behind the curtain. “Go, leave” he yelled at the other women as they scattered away leaving just one. Pulling her crinkled picture from my pocket, I've looked at it countless times. She was a strong willed girl as her mother told me, with her chin held high, her beautiful hair coming down in waves on one side of her neck, she was indeed a beautiful woman. 

But the girl I see before me is not the girl  her mother described. Her body is hunched trying to make herself small and meek, her skin is red and blotchy from crying. My heart beats rapidly in my chest at the sight of this poor girl in distress. She has always been a sweet and shy thing, her cheeks always flushed pink whenever I caught her staring. She didn't realize that I was always watching her. 

Mr. Hudson grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her to her feet “ you will do this child, we will be out of debt and your mother won't ever have to work a day in her life again” she sneered at him. “But my chances of a good marriage and my reputation will have gone out the window because you are selling my innocence to settle your gambling debts” she wrenched her shoulders from his grip and stood back from him. Her delicate hands balled up in fists at her side. She reached out and slapped him across the face.

She had a slight smirk on her face as he seethed at her. “Fine” he snarled “ I'll go and get your little sister, she’d fetch me a higher price than you” her face blanched at that comment. I knew of his other daughter, his illegitimate one. She was only 14 years of age. Unlike Evelyn, who is 10 years younger than I. My grip on my cane tightened as I took a step forward. “I'll do it, you leave her out of this” he nodded at her and “I'll let Mr Carnahan know” he strided away as her knees began to falter and she dropped to her knees. I desperately wanted to go pick her up and take her home but her father would go use his young daughter. Grabbing a black mask from a table. I put it on my face and turned away from her. I was off to find Mr. Carnahan.

I found him, he was at the gambling tables, he clapped Mr. Hudson on the shoulder as he walked away. I pursued him on the way to his office. Pushing my hair back and dawning on my half mask, I gave three sharp wraps to his office door before I proceeded in. He was sitting at his desk. “ I'd like to make a deal with you” he picked his head up and cocked a brow “ Come in, sit down my friend” sitting in front of his desk, he leaned back in his chair with a lit cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth. “ Who are you making a deal for?” I gave him a wicked smile “ Evelyn Hudson” he smiled back showing all his teeth. “Let's make a deal”

*few hours later* 

Sitting in the private room in the corner, only select men were allowed back here. The women came out and performed, Evelyn is the last one to perform. Sitting back letting the dark conceal my face. I watched as she made her way to the stage in a tight corset that enhanced her curves. Little shorts underneath it, and silk stockings held in place by straps attached to her waist. If she was afraid she didn't let it show. Her face remained blank as she took her place on that stage. Giving a slow spin to show off her figure as men yelled at her, my blood was boiling, as I watched her father sit in the corner of the room with a smug smile on his face that scheming bastard.

Adjusting myself in my chair to settle back in as men approached her and looked her over like she was nothing more than a piece of meat. Rubbing their hands over her body, I expected flinching and twitching but nothing. She was set in stone, unwavering and unmoving.  One man went to undo the strings of her corset but Mr. Carnahan stepped in “ Sorry gentlemen, she is for viewing only, she has been bought for the evening. Her eyes widened in fear as one of his men escorted her off the stage. Mr. Carnahan stood in front of the stage and clapped his hands together “Well gentlemen thank you all for coming, proceed down stairs to collect your winnings” Mr. Hudson was enraged “We had a deal damn it '' Mr. Carnahan just shrugged him off, “Someone came to me with a better offer, don't worry old boy you'll get a small fee for bringing her to me” her father threw an empty brandy glass across the room. Before storming out.

“Mr. Holmes” he drawled before he left the room “Stay here and one of my men will escort you down shortly "I stood rooted in my place as I watched him walk out that door. I was certainly going to hell for this but I had to protect her, I promised I would. 

Evelyn’s POV

I was waiting at my makeup table  just waiting to be summoned, fixing my makeup for the third time that night when one of his goonies came back for me. Looking at myself one last time, I put on my brave face and followed him. We went up the back staircase past the rooms that were used for when men collected their prices. You could hear the sounds of men and women grunting and groaning, a few women sobbing and begging for them to stop but no one ever helped them, that's just not how it worked here. We came to the last door at the end  of the hallway. The goon knocked three times before opening the door. This was his private room, it was lavished with deep reds and gold trim. Not my taste, I just had to bear  it long enough to get this over with. “Hello my darling” Mr. Carnahan drawled, my feet grounded to the floor, the blood running through my veins turning ice cold. 

No no no this couldn't be happening, this cant be the man my father sold me to, one of his guards grabbed my arm, and tried to pull me from my spot but I fought back. Scratching at the goon and trying to pry his hands off my arms. “That is enough '' a loud voice rang out “ I did not pay for a damaged girl. Mr. Carnahan this really can't be how you allow your men to treat them?” the sound of a cane thumbing against the floor as the footsteps drew closer. “No sir i can assure you that this won't happen again, it will be handled” the goon finally moved, allowing me to get a look at the man in question who had purchased me. His back was to me, he was tall, all dressed in black with a mop of curly hair on top of his head. He turned on his heels slowly, those mismatched eyes, both blue but one had some brown in it, which startled people. He was an extremely well known and respected man that stood before me, it was no other than Sherlock Holmes. My breathing hitched, my heart felt like it was in my throat, my palms began to sweat as he approached me. 

Dropping my gaze to the floor as I wiggled my toes in my satin slippers. A coarse knuckle that smelt of tobacco and some type of oil, followed the lines of my jaw before resting at my  chin and bringing it up so I could look at him. I narrowed my focus on the floor “My she is defiant isn't she?” he mused out loud. Mr. Carnahan laughed in the background as he continued to examine me. To anyone who wasn't personally familiar with Mr. Holmes would just assume that he was indulging in my appearance, he had to appropriate reactions, the slight lick of his lips, the hum of approval, the slight touching of my skin and clothes, but in all reality, he was scanning me for any marks or injuries. 

Mother has something to do with him beginning here no doubt. “Look at me” he ordered, I lifted my eyes up his frame, and resting on his tense gaze, his eyes softened  slightly. “She is perfect Mr. Carnahan, you may leave” Mr. Carnahan huffed “Gents hit the road” the goonies let me go and walked out of the room. “You too, Mr. Carnahan” the sounds of his footsteps getting closer “Did you really think that I was going to leave Mr. Holmes? You'd just wait till we were gone, take the girl and leave” His posture stiffened as he bit back “ I paid for her, you've received your money, what does it matter what I do with her” sherlock locked eyes with me and gave a gentle squeeze to my hip, i heard the familiar sound of a revolver cocking. My eyes widened in panic, but Sherlock remained calm. “ Do it Holmes or  your little lamb will be slaughtered” 

Sherlock’s POV

Her eyes widened when he threatened to shoot her, before I could say “I’ll do it Mr. Carnahan "I looked down at that girl, there she was, that fiery little thing. She grabbed my wrist and held fast. Reluctantly I relaxed my posture and let her lead me. “Excellent dear girl..” she spun and looked at him “ Not another word from you” he closed his mouth so fast you could hear the audible click of his teeth. She led me to the edge of the bed and pointed for me to sit. Toeing off my shoes as  she pushed my coat off my shoulders, grabbing her wrist to stop her. She spoke in a soft tone “ C'est bon, laisse-moi faire ça” It’s ok let me do this.  I narrowed my eyes at her as i glanced over at Mr. Carnahan, she smiled softly and carrassed my check  “ l'imbécile ne parle pas français, il disait que c'était une perte de temps d'apprendre une telle langue” the imbecile does not speak french, said it was a waste of time to learn such a language 

I let out a short laugh as I gazed over to her shoulder to wear while he sat, sipping his drink, watching us with a suspicious look. I looked back at her as she began to work on the buttons of my waist coat. Grabbing her right arm, I leave a trail of kisses up to her elbow, her cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink “ Me fais-tu confiance?” Do you trust me? She looked at me absorbing the words before she responded “ Avec ma vie, M. Holmes” with my life, Mr. Holmes

Releasing her wrist, I move my hands down her waist down to her stocking covered thighs. Wrapping my hands around the back of her lush thighs, i pulled her up into my lap, she squealed and wrapped her arms around my neck to steady herself, letting out a soft chuckle, she leaned back her hands stilled laced together behind my neck, she smiled gently but there was an aspect of fear in them. “qu'est-ce qui ne va pas petit agneau?” what's wrong little lamb?

I question, as my eyes trailed up her delicious frame, settling on her ample chest. Settling one arm around her back, i reached up with my other hand as i started to undo the lace corset work 

“ Après ça, je serai ruiné pour tous les autres hommes, personne ne voudra jamais de moi, mais je garde ma petite sœur en sécurité” I'll be ruined after this for all other men, no one will ever want me, but I'm keeping my little sister safe" her shoulders dropped with a small sigh, her brown eyes looking straight into mine “ Je suis reconnaissant que ce soit toi Sherlock” I'm grateful that it is you Sherlock. She continued to undo the lace of her corset as i watched her, i picked her head up and really looked at her “Le plaisir est pour moi, je ne l'aurais de toute façon pour aucun de nous” The pleasure is mine, i would not have it either way for either of us” her eyes widened as i stood up with her, ripping the covers off the bed  and placed her higher up on it as i crawled up her body and devoured her mouth. 

A sharp wolf whistle came from behind us, and she froze. “Les yeux sur moi petit agneau” Eyes on me little lamb. She looked at me as I opened up her corset and pushed it off her shoulders. Lowering my head to her stomach, I started a trail up her body, paying close attention to her ample cleavage and neck before capturing her lips again. She reached up, ripping off my tie and tearing the buttons of my shirt. It went flying to the floor with her corset and stockings, I began to undo my trousers and slide them down my legs and discard them on the floor with the rest of my belongings, hesitating on her knickers, she gave me a sharp nod and I pulled them off. I took a moment to take her in, she was absolutely breathtaking. “tu es belle” You are beautiful 

Her cheeks tinged pink, i drew the blanket up around my back to cover her exposed body from Mr. Carnahan. He scoffed but I ignored him and just focused on her. Lining my cock with her wet entrance i looked at her “Je suis vraiment désolé mon agneau, ça va faire mal” I'm so sorry lamb, this is going to hurt  “C'est bon, je suis en sécurité avec toi” It's ok, I am safe with you.

I leaned down and kissed her as I thrusted my hips forward, she let out a cry against my lips. I froze in place as her inner walls squeezed and clenched around me. A few tears rolled down her face. I kissed them away and kept apologizing to her. “ respire petit agneau,Je vais déménager maintenant. Restez avec moi ” Breathe little lamb, I am going to move now stay with me”  rocking my hips back and forth in a gentle motion, she hissed out her discomfort, pulling up her right leg so it was bent at her knee, i wrapped it around my back and continued to move. Her pained whimpers, slowly turned into breathy moans. “ Plus?” More as I watched her body flushed with heat and excitement “ oui s'il te plaît plus” Yes please more. She dropped her leg from my back and opened them wider for me as I picked up my pace. Her small arms came up my back at my waist and she dug her nails in.

 she chanted my name like it was an endless prayer. Her walls were like a vice, i could barely pull in and out of her anymore, she changed betweening chanting my name to say oh my god in french. Her hips met mine, thrust for thrust and she never let up. Arching her back off the bed as her eyes rolled in the back of her head, I could feel a rush of wet heat cover my aching cock, thrusting faster as she rode out the waves of her orgasm, the pressure was building at the base of my spine and my balls tightened.the thread of tension snapped as i came inside her, my movements slowing down and becoming jerky, i withdrew from her wet heat gently as possible, looking down as i pulled out, i saw the blood that was on my cock, her inner thighs and the bed sheets. Moving gentle off the bed, with my back to Mr. Carnahan, I drew the covers up to her chin. “Stay, do not move,” she nodded as I placed a kiss on her forehead and moved to step into my trousers. Turning to face him “You are done here” he sighed and unfolded his hands “I suppose you are right” he stood to take his leave from the room “Send in a girl with some warm water and towels and the rest of her things” he looked back and nodded at me “ Of course sir right away, enjoy your evening Mr. Holmes.”

Moving back to the bed, I grabbed my discarded shirt off the floor and offered it to my little lamb “Are you alright?” I asked as I helped her sit up, her lower lip trembled and she let out a shuddering breath. “What happens now?” she looked at me unshed tears clinging to her lashes

“Do i become some common whore that roams the streets at night to just barely get by” my face fell as i pulled her into my bare chest and let her sob. Three sharp knocks and the door opened “ Excuse me Mr. Holmes but Mr. Carnahan sent me with the rest of the items and her belongings. "She placed the bowl of warm water on the bedside table and her clothing on the chair. Is there anything else that I can get you?” I looked at her from over my shoulder. “Yes, have a carriage waiting here in 15 minutes”  She curtsied and left the room, the door shut with an audible click.

 “Lay back little lamb and let's get you cleaned up” I stood and dipped the rags into the water before it began to cool. She laid back down and spread her legs for me. I ran the cloth down both her thighs and rinsed it before I started on her sensitive area, she hissed at the contact. “A warm bath will do wonders for those sore muscles of yours” she nodded and just watched me as i dried her off then was the blood off myself. She didn't speak as I helped her into her dress and covered her with my coat.

We made our way down from the private rooms, through the gambling room where her father was, being arrested along with a handful of men. Mr. Carnahan wasnt amongst them as we walked up the stairs to our waiting carriage. Putting her bags in the back and opening the door “Where are you taking me?” she asked in a small voice, holding the door open for her i extended my hand to her  “Home, we are going home” she looked at me with confusion “Into the carriage, it's a long ride back to London'' she climbed in and i climbed in after her. The carriage pulled away from the building and started on our journey home “ the deal that i made with your mother in exchange for bringing down your father i got something in return, she looked up at me and cocked her brow, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear “ you little lamb, i get you” 

[he-goes-down]

There Was A Time:

A/n: OMG SORRY IF THIS IS HORRIBLE IM SICK AND MY HEAD BE FLOATING

ENJOY THO

Pervious chapters/ warnings

3. Nice Boys:

Second person POV:

You woke up to the sound of clattering and clanging in the kitchen. You rubbed your eyes and groaned, when you opened them, you realised that you were in Duff's room. "What the fuck!" You yelled, but it was soft as your voice was still waking up as well. You aggressively lifted the covers and looked down. 'Phew, my clothes are still on.' You sighed a sigh of relief. You didn't remember how you got to Duff's bed, but hopefully nothing happened. 'Okay back to bed' All that strong panic and crashing relief so early in the morning made you tired. You took the covers and laid down, holding them to your shoulder and closed your eyes. The idea of getting more sleep started crashing down when there was a loud knock on the door. "Wake up we need you in the kitchen!" The person on the other side yelled. You groaned in annoyance and turned over, flipping open the covers and getting out of bed. The cold air hitting your feet and arms made you shiver, you opened the door to see Izzy standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes widen, he was surprised to see you come out of Duff's room. "Where's Duff?" He asked, rather rudely as he looked you up and down. He probably thought the same thing you panicked about this morning. "I don't know." You responded, "What do you need help with?" You asked as you stretched and yawned. "Well, Axl-..." "I didn't do fucking anything!" You heard Axl scream from the kitchen. The sounds of his pounding footsteps approached you and Izzy, "And if you tell Duff that-... Oh?" He paused when he saw that it was just the two of you and smirked at you. "Axl I'm gonna grind your balls on the cheese grater, nothing happened between us." You told him firmly, while pointing at him. He held his hands up in surrender with an even smugger look on his face and waltzed back to the kitchen.

In the end, Duff went out to get more food and booze. While he was gone you helped clean the mess Axl made in the kitchen, he someone caught the sink on fire when he wanted to 'cool off' and 'fix' his jet black, hard ashy bacon he conjured up. You also made them new breakfast and taught Axl how to properly cook bacon, he was very reluctant at first and cussed you out, but he soon had a laugh about it. "This is so fucking good." Steven sighed as he inhaled his breakfast "Can't you just stay here forever and make this every morning." He smiled, and his blonde hair bounced like popcorn popping in the microwave. "Yeah, and sleep with Duff every night" Axl's deep voice range over the table. You looked up to see him and Slash giggling with each other like two teenage girls. Izzy had a disgusted look on his face, and Duff started to go a bit red. "That's not what happened. Y/n slept in my room, and I slept on the couch. That's it." Duff cleared his voice, you were grateful, but you knew Axl couldn't help himself. "I need to call my manager. Can I use the phone?" You asked. Duff nodded and you stood up, so did he but he was heading for the bathroom. "That phone and my dick are the only thing that work in this damn house." Axl said as he dumped his dishes in the sink and tried to turn the tap. You rolled your eyes as you punched in the numbers of your manager.

"Hey, I got a band. They're sick. I just know they'll be the biggest thing ever." You spoke, you didn't say this just to make the guys favour you, you already knew that they are in the future. "I trust your intuition. We'll be able to get them a studio in a few months, it's a bit busy here. We might be able to get them into Sound City. How many members?" Your manager spoke. "Five" You answered, "That might take a bit longer then, sorry doll." He spoke. "But don't worry, we'll slot them in soon." "Thanks sir." You responded. "Oh, and your landlord called in 'cause he couldn't get hold of you, I can switch him over for you." He said. "Yes, thank you."

There was a beep, a pause, and a static crack. You heard your landlord cough up flehm, and his cigarette voice rang through the phone. "Who's this again?" He chewed. "Y/n? You called my work today." You answered. "Oh yeah, I had to throw your shit out. I got some high paying tenants coming in, sorry toots." And he hung up the phone.

You stood there with the phone in hand, shocked, your mouth slightly a gape, paralysed. Every emotion was rushing through you, anger was the biggest one. You could see now why there was a large hole in the wall next to phone, you wanted to punch something too. A swarm of fear and panic ran through your head, there was a loud ringing in your ear. You didn't even realise someone was calling your name, you snapped out of it, you felt a tear run down your cheek and wiped it away quickly. "Hey, you okay? What'd they say?" Axl asked as he dried one of the dishes. "Hm? Oh, yeah, he said we could get a studio in a few months. It's gonna be a private one just for you guys so that's why." You explained, trying not to burst into tears and hope they didn't notice. "Cool!" Slash said, as he pumped the air and shoulder bumped with Steven. "Excuse me a minute." You spoke and dashed out the front door. You felt sick, you wanted to throw up, your legs were shaking.

You sank to the steps of the front porch and put your head on your knees. "Shit." You choked back tears, you were thinking of all the things that are probably in some disgusting New York dumpster getting eaten by rats. Your polaroid's of friends, favourite clothes, shit your whole record collection, even the stuff your dead relatives gave you. It was all gone. You breathed hard, you didn't want to cry, you didn't want to panic. You already had enough of it, and it's only been a day. Your heart jumped when you heard the door open and one of the floorboards creak. "Yo, the guys are gonna head to a bar you wanna-... Oh shit." It was Slash. He hissed as he sucked in air, he didn't know what to do. "You okay?" "No, No, I'm fine. I just needed air." You coughed as you got up. He knew something was up, but you weren't budging and he didn't want to step over boundaries. "Hey babes, you going or not?... Shit, you look wrecked." But there was always Axl to step over the line for you. The ginger look confused, at you. Your eyes were red, ready to explode. "Does the place stink that much?" He laughed, but it was just silence. Awkward silence. Slash gave him a look. "Hey, sorry I-... what's wrong?" He put a hand on your shoulder and asked sincerely. "My landlord kicked me out..." You whispered quietly, "All my stuff is gone." You started to tear up thinking about it, and how embarrassing it was that you were about to cry in front of your new band. Slash came in to hug you, his hair covered your face so no one could see the stream of tears rolling down your cheeks. "Hey, hey, it's okay let it out. You can cry." His soft voice was like a lullaby. You rested your head on his chest as you sobbed and hugged him. Axl rubbed your back, making small jokes and flirts trying to lighten your mood. You tried your hardest to stop crying, you sniffed as you lifted your head off Slash's chest. "Thanks guys." You sighed a chuckle while wiping your face. "You can still come with us to the bar, it'll cheer you up. Promise." Axl said craning his neck over your shoulder to look at you. You exhaled and nodded a yes.

You washed your face before going out, and told Axl and Slash not to tell anyone. You just wanted to forget about it and drink. You dressed into a pair of black jeans, docs, a black white tank and your trusty leather jacket. You and the guys were downtown in a dark bar drink at 12 and it felt good honestly. You were sitting in a red leather booth, Axl next to you with his arm on top of the booth behind you, Steven on your other side, Slash, Izzy then Duff at the other end of the booth. You and Duff were on your 5th shot of Vodka, giggling about anything and nothing. You snapped out of it when you felt a tap on your shoulder, you looked to Steven, but it was Axl who had his arm looming over your shoulder from behind the booth seat. He had his hat on with sunglasses so you couldn't make direct eye contact with him but god his eyes were still pulling you in. "I was thinking... Why don't you stay with us?" You nearly spat out the drink that wasn't in your mouth. "Seriously?" "You still got your job don't ya? So, it won't take that long for you to get enough money to get your own place again. Besides, we'll be racking in your money sweetheart." He spoke nonchalantly as he waved his hand around. Did you really want to live in a hell hole with five stinky men? Five hot stinky men. You did have enough money to help them fix some of the things in their place, it would be a fair trade. They were also a joy to be around, and you had to get to know them better one way or another for this band thing to work. "What about the others-...?" You whispered to him, but he started to speak loudly to the rest of the group. "Give a round of applause to our new guest in the Hell House! We'll be eating like kings while she finds a new place." He rose his glass drunkenly, Steven and Duff clapped as Slash whooped. Duff stared at you with a big grin on his face. Either from excitement or alcohol. Izzy didn't look amused, he looked somewhat agitated, and he clutched his glass tighter till his knuckles went white. "Where will I sleep?" You asked the ginger. "You can always sleep with me babe. In more ways than one." His glasses fell to the bridge of his nose, and you could see his blue eyes, he winked and pushed them back up. You rolled your eyes. "It's fine, I'll buy my own mattress. Who knows how many different stains are on yours." You said. He punched your shoulder playfully and chuckled, you did too.

The rest of the day was you and the guys on a bar crawl, you laughed with all of them about different stories they told you, even with Izzy; after a few bottles of wine, he chuckled at your jokes. It was around 9, and everyone was smashed, smashed enough to still walk but not enough to use common sense. It was a miracle that Axl hadn't started a fight or Steven didn't throw up in someone's drink. You and Slash were on your way to pick up more drinks from the bar when some drunk guy came up and started flirting with you, he started coming closer. His breath stunk you physically stepped back and began cussing him out for it, but he didn't stop. Slash slightly stepped Infront of you, he was getting uncomfortable with this stranger's presence too. "Hey man, just back off." Slash warned. "What, and your skinny ass is gonna beat me up?" He drunkenly scoffed. He quickly grabbed your ass, dodging Slash's body in front of yours, Slash didn't have time to respond to the assault. Someone tapped the drunk man's shoulder, "You fucking bitch." It was Axl, he then swiftly sucker punched him square in the face. The man yelled, Axl grabbed his collar and started repeatedly bashed his face with his fist. A crowd started forming and bartenders yelled at him to get out. You and Slash started to pull Axl away from the man, "Ax get off him! You're gonna kill him!" You yelled at him. "That's the point!" He huffed as he was still reaching and grabbing for the man even though he was backing away, nearly unconscious and scared for his life. With the help from other strangers, you got Axl off him and all of you were kicked out. Axl was panting and still in a rage, yelling and screaming that he's going to finish that guy's ass. You finally got him to calm down with the help of Izzy.

The rest of the night Izzy didn't talk, he was furious, furious with you and Axl. Slash and Steven were worried about you and tried to comfort you, but you were okay, just startled. You didn't want to make a big deal of it. Duff felt the tension between Izzy and you, and he tried to explain that it wasn't your fault, but you told Duff to leave it. You didn't know why Izzy was out to get you, but you tried not to think too much about it. When you got home Izzy went straight to bed, so did Slash, Steven did too but only after he threw up in the toilet as you held his hair up. You sat by the small wooden table by the kitchen where you ate this morning and bandaged Axl's knuckles. "This might sting." You warned, as you patted a cotton pad with disinfectant on his knuckle. He hissed and wriggled, you could feel he was still agitated and angry. "That was a nice thing you did back there. Thank you." You told him. His eyes widened, he was surprised. "Next time just don't try kill the man." You said as you wrapped his hand. He gave a breathy laugh and smiled at you. "Nice boys don't play rock 'n doll darling." He scoffed light heartedly. There was pause. You waited for him to realise something. "Shit, that's a great fucking lyric." He got off the table and scavenged for a piece of paper and a pen. You rolled your eyes at him as you packed away the med kit you had in your bag. Axl soon went to bed after he scribbled aggressively and attentively on the paper. It was just you and Duff again. He took out a bottle of vodka from under the couch he had been saving, and you shared it. By the end of it the two of you were out of it, wobbly legs, slurred speech, couldn't think and couldn't speak. You both stumble into Duff's room and as soon as you hit the bed you were gone, Duff giggled and did the same. His one arm laid on your back and both pair of legs were sprawled out on the bed, and his feet dangling off the side of the bed. Soft snores were heard from the two of you, and loud ones from Slash's room as the whole house slept.

[penny-anna]

Rimmer pressed his lips together in a bitter smile. “Might I remind you that this whole dire situation is your fault?” “What, the coronavirus?” said Lister. “No, you idiot, us getting evicted,” said Rimmer. “If it wasn’t for you we’d have two whole bedrooms right now. I could have got a hotplate and a chemical toilet and sealed myself in.” “Hey, hang on,” said Lister. “I got us evicted? You’re the one who told Mr Hollister about Frankenstein.” “I wouldn’t have had to tell our landlord that you were in breach of our lease if you hadn’t been in breach of our lease,” Rimmer snapped. “Really, you –” Reluctant flatmates Lister and Rimmer are forced to move into a one bedroom flat after getting evicted. Unfortunately, it's early 2020 and what was supposed to be a temporary situation drags on. And on... In which Lister won't stop bringing home new flatmates, Holly communicates exclusively via Zoom call, Kryten bakes bread, the Cat bedazzles a lot of face masks, Rimmer hoards toilet paper, and everyone leans some things about themselves.

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

there isn't an epidemic of disability faking for the most part, but I do need people to understand there absolutely is an epidemic of faking or exaggerating the need for an emotional support animal that's hurting genuine ESA handlers. ESAs are no longer allowed on many airlines because people abused the airlines' accommodations to the point where it became a hazard to other passengers. Many people don't believe ESAs are necessary and think the law should be adjusted to exclude them, and fake handlers are a huge reason for this. Many colleges and landlords are reluctant to allow ESAs and are increasing the complication of their processes to weed out fake handlers.

Pretending to need an ESA to get into an apartment you want, bring your pet to college, bring your pet on an airplane, etc is ableist and on the same level as faking needing a service dog. ESAs aren't pets. They're assistance animals for disabled people. You're taking advantage of laws that are meant to keep disabled people safe and using them for your own personal gain. You can choose to live in a pet-friendly apartment. Some people who use ESAs can't, especially those of us who have limited mobility. I need to choose an apartment on the first floor I can easily add a ramp to, and if that apartment happens to be pet-unfriendly, I need to activate my rights under the fair housing act to keep my ESA with me. You can wait until you get home from college or a trip to see your pet. I'm at high risk of suicide if I'm away from my ESA for more than a week or two. I also think it's fucked up that landlords and colleges are allowed to tell you that you can't have a pet, but you're not fighting the system by faking an ESA, you're punching down at disabled people.

I do want to understand and acknowledge the current housing and cost of living crisis. If you are in dire straits and have chosen to fake needing an ESA as a way to keep you and your pet housed in a homeless shelter or affordable housing, I'm not going to stop you. I understand that surrendering your beloved pet would be traumatic and I don't wish that on anyone. However, I do need to emphasize the importance of being an absolute model citizen if you do this. Fix any vomiting, pottying, or destruction issues with your pet as quickly as possible to avoid being seen as destructive. Know the rights of an ESA and handler under the fair housing act and don't demand more than you're legally owed. Make sure you yourself aren't destroying property or breaking rules as you might negatively affect the overall image of ESA handlers. Keep your head down, basically. And only do it if you're certain you've exhausted all other options.

[dreamersparacosm]

I’m in NEED of some rooster blurbs, imagine you two being all sweaty because your air conditioner stopped working in your apartment and you’re both hot and bothered so you take off clothes to get comfy and he’s turned on

it’s getting hot in here - rooster (top gun)

note ; i have been RABID for rooster since i saw this movie. i am so happy y’all share the love because the way i am imagining rooster being a little brat because it’s so damn hot and he doesn’t know how else to cool off.

warnings ; cursing, suggestive language

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“this is fucking ridiculous,” he wiped another droplet of sweat from his forehead. he was standing up again after being sat down on the leather couch for about .2 seconds. how was he supposed to be comfortable when the air conditioner wasn’t working in 100 degree weather? it was preposterous, if you asked him. to save on rent, you and rooster had moved into a loft that had more problems than it was worth. to make matters worse, california was enduring a massive heat wave.

“baby, relax. complaining about it isn’t gonna make it any better,” you fanned yourself off with a nearby magazine you were reading before. you were too sweaty to focus on anything else but unsticking your thighs every three seconds. rooster wasn’t always in a bad mood, but when he was, he really was.

“you know, you would think our landlord would hop in his car because at least it has fucking air conditioning,” he was referring to your landlord’s attitude towards coming to your apartment to fix your issue. however, he seemed reluctant over the phone to budge.

“he’s probably sitting on his couch eating a fucking popsicle,” you agreed as you put your wet strands of hair up in a messy bun. “the only good thing is at least i’m shedding calories here. i feel like i’m in a damn sauna.”

“that’s it. i’ve had it up to here,” and with that, rooster took off his tank top, his abdominal muscles glistening with sweat. you had to look away, because you were just going to make yourself more hot if you stared at him. the last thing you needed was another part of you being wet.

he collapsed down next to you on the couch, sprawled out in refusal of letting any of his body parts touch. you were still trying to maintain minimal eye contact. wrong time to be horny, and you knew it. he knew this was going to be a problem for you, especially because your favorite pastime was commenting on his physique. the first time you noticed him at the hard deck, you thought to yourself damn, this guy works out. so, keeping your hands to yourself in this situation was not an easy one. “what happened, cat’s got your tongue?” he joked.

“oh, shut it,” you rolled your eyes. “i’m not in the mood.”

you couldn’t help but realize that the only way to play this game fair and square was to also take off a piece of clothing. “you know what, it is actually getting a little too hot in here,” you said as you began to remove your crop top. underneath was a black lace bra that normally wouldn’t have been worn on a day like today, but your breasts would have sagged without it. now, they were perked up and right in front of his eyes for their viewing. “god, that’s much better.”

“you’re kidding.”

“what? i feel like this is fair,” you quipped. he was practically drooling, eyes glued to your chest. you were well-endowed and he made sure you knew it. this time, however, they were covered in sweat and although that might sound disgusting to the normal person, that was a meal to him.

“don’t do this to me, [y/n],” he begged. eyes had not moved once. you weren’t even sure if he was blinking.

“if you play your cards right, bradley, i might even let you touch them,” you smirked at him before picking up your magazine once more and reading where you left off. oh, he was absolutely going to lose his mind today.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

keep your ideas coming here!